Chapter III • Maia

“Cheese…” my childhood friend mumbles to himself whilst I rip the bread I bought in half to share for the noontime meal. “It has been a while since I last bought whey.”

“Well, if you were not frequently insistent on giving me most of your daily earnings and then running off before I refuse and return it to you, you would be able to buy some proper meals for you and your father, you stubborn oaf.”

Nicolaus raises his forefinger at me, to hush me perchance, before leaning against the delivery cart. He spreads some of the cheese onto the bread with a small knife, heartily biting into the pastry before sighing in satisfaction. I lean on the cart next to him, watching him savor his meal.

He then turns to me, with his mouth full, to tell me the same thing he has always told me ever since we were young:

“It is more important that you and your family get fed.”

I give the blonde a wry look and take a bite of my bread, savoring the crusty exterior. While he continues spreading an excessive amount of cheese on his half of the bread, I catch a glimpse of a bluish welt under his chemise sleeve.

He notices me looking, so he pulls his sleeve down almost instantly to hide it.

“I injured myself while helping Father, 'tis no major concern,” he says reassuringly, changing the subject all of a sudden. “How fares Eustace? Is he getting any better?”

Shaking off the feeling that he is hiding something from me, I sigh.

“Nothing has changed in a decade, he has been frail since he was a tot. What is odd is that the lad never knew who his mother was, but my uncle never mentioned having a wife,” I reply, consuming the last bit of bread in hand. I dust my hands off on my kirtle to rid of the crumbs. “With that, I commiserated with him and told him that I never knew my parents as well, especially my father, since I rarely get to talk to the poor boy stuck in the house all day. I told him what I thought about my father and almost forgot that I had errands to run today… a dolt, I am.”

“Ah, I cannot blame you. Your father was said to be mauled by a bear, no?”

“That is what Uncle Wyatt tells me… As curious as I am about my parents, nothing will bring him or Mother back. Come now, let’s not dawdle any longer, or the laundress will have our heads if we are late. We have a lot to deliver today.”

Lugging the cart together after he gobbles his meal, we make our way to the washerwoman’s house, where leftover laundry is still being washed in half-barrels by the ill-tempered laundress. She looks up between the strands of her disheveled hair and sneers when she sees us from a distance. When we arrive, she gets off her wooden stool to load the villagers’ clean clothes onto the cart in batches, firmly notifying us of which set of garments belonged to which household. She also tells us to come back to receive our payment, and offers to pay more if we complete the task quickly. I smile at Nicolaus, who gives me a determined look while he tightens the laces of his leather shoes, his face contorting when he finds me tying the ends of my kirtle yet again.

What can I say? Doing tasks quickly is my specialty.

“You should really get yourself a pair of trousers,” he mumbles to himself, thinking I would not hear it. I roll my eyes and pull the cart faster than he would expect as we depart, forcing him to catch up and breathe heavily when we arrive at the first house. He glares at me when I finally match his pace.

“You are cruel, Maia.”

“I know what I am doing, my friend.”

In no time, we finish our deliveries before the sun sets, and return to the washerwoman to receive our pay with additional silver coins, as she had said. Nicolaus and I merrily travel back to our respective homes, earlier than expected, to count and divide our earnings for the day.

As we return the cart to its rightful place in the front of my house, I warn the blonde not to give me any more of his share of money, else I throw him into the water well in the middle of the village whilst he sleeps. He waves off my warning and recounts the silver coins in his large, sweaty palms, and only stops short when I glare at him and jab my stout finger over my shoulder to point at the well.

“You deserve to have filling meals as well, you fopdoodle,” I say, already walking away to buy ingredients for supper. “Buy something you and your father would enjoy!”

Self-assured, I make my way to the farmer’s stall to buy onions, carrots, leeks, and parsnips, place them in my basket, then head to the butcher to buy an average-sized piece of beef to chop up and boil into supper’s stew. It’s a luxury just purchasing some meat, but I’m feeling rather luxurious today! This is so exciting, Uncle Wyatt and Eustace will be so surprised!

I must look like an absolute fool skipping happily back to my house, but I catch Nicolaus struggling to open his front door with his house key. To my surprise, he has a whole damn wheel of cheese and wrapped meat in one arm, and three large loaves of bread in the other. I march over to him, putting the basket of ingredients down temporarily on the ground to snatch the key from the struggling blonde and unlock the door for him. I smirk and return the key, which he accepts awkwardly, before picking up my basket and entering my home.

As I was about to announce what supper will be, I hear my uncle yelling. It seems that he is reprimanding Eustace. But he never scolds him…

“…-'ve told ye before, lad. Maia is to never discover who her father is, ever!”

My father? What about him? He is already dead.

“But he is still alive, Father! You know not how she longs for the affection of her parent!”

Huh?

“I am the parent in this household, Eustace, so ye mustn't go telling me that she 'deserves the truth', for a lass like her own mother does not deserve the same man who murdered Morris!”

Stunned by the amount of information, my hands slip from its grasp on the basket of ingredients, vegetables falling with a faint thump, then rolling along the stamped down dirt floor.

Morris…  was slain by my father?

'Tis as if everything had stopped, and what I am hearing at this moment becomes muffled— even Eustace’s retorts are indistinct. Still in disbelief, I slowly make my way up the stairs to find Uncle Wyatt’s back facing me. He slams a fist against the wooden part of the wall, the dull thud reverberating throughout the house.

“That scum and his pernicious father had your real father mutilated, Eustace… For loving a man.”

With those words, I come back to my senses, and speak the four words that have been churning in my head:

“My father is alive?!”

My uncle whirls around, eyes wide with fear at the sight of me.

“You said… he was mauled by a bear,” I express, letting the pot of rage inside of me boil over. “I knew something was off about that story. You never bothered to tell me more about him…”

I approach him, and I can already see  visible beads of sweat forming on his bald head.

“And t'was the actuality that there are no bears in Augborough! By the gods, I believed you, Uncle! And to make the wound you caused sting even more, you knew all along who Eustace’s real parent was? Eustace has been absolutely bloody clueless who his mother was, only to discover that you are not his real father in the first place?!”

Uncle Wyatt's tone shifts, raising his hands and attempting to calm my anger.

“Maia, I can explain—"

“And you, Eustace,” I turn to the bedridden lad, my shoulders sagging. “I trusted you… You knew?”

The frail boy looks away in shame, my liar of an uncle moving to block my view of him with his large body.

“He does not know what he is talking about, lass, he—”

“Why should I believe the man who had lied to me all my life? You kept it hidden from both of us who our real parents were—”

“Now, pray thee, let me explai—”

“—for what?!”

“Maia, I am TRYING to PROTECT BOTH OF YE!”

My uncle's screeches echo throughout the house, his sizable hands flying to the top of his head.

“I need you to tell me who my father is,” I manage to say, my voice unsteady. He gives me a desperate look.

“I need ye to understand, Maia…”

”Who is my father?”

“Just— give me a moment! Davidson's son got a taste of how punishments happen around ‘ere. H-he…"

“Answer me, Uncle!”

“Will you not listen, lass?! Eadmond is a cold-blooded murderer!”

Uncle keeps mentioning the son of the lord of Augborough. Why?

 'Tis a given that Lord Edgar is 

That is when I come to realize…

“Is… Lord Eadmond Davidson… my father?”

Uncle Wyatt’s arms fall to his sides and clenches his fists. He looks away from me, and I notice that he is sweating even more.

“He is my father, is he not? Is that what you are implying?”

He does not answer. Eustace, behind him…

nods.

  

I feel like a bucket of cold water was poured over me.

In utter disbelief, I run down the stairs and head to the door. I hear my uncle screaming out to me not to go, but I ignore him and pull on the door handle. My tears begin blurring my vision, and I bump into someone as I wipe them away.

“Maia?” A familiar, gentle male voice speaks. I begin tearing up again and grasp onto the front of the man's chemise.

I do not have to look up to see who it is.

“Maia… what is the matter?”

“I cannot tell you hither, Nicolaus…” I whine, pressing my face into his chest and begin sobbing uncontrollably. I feel him place a hand at the back of my head, returning the embrace by placing his chin atop my hair. I am quite glad this man is taller than me.

“Shall we head to the sanctuary, then? I brought some cheese to share.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

We make our way to the outskirts of the village. Just beyond the thicket is a creek surrounded by a copse, where an old, large, moss-covered log lies near the flowing water.

“It has been years since we last went hither,” I think aloud, sniffling. “It no longer looks like a ‘sanctuary’ anymore.”

The blonde places a piece of cloth onto the log’s moss, gesturing me to take a seat. I sit on it, feeling the dampness of the plant, watching him sitnext to me.

“Well, it has also been years since you’ve burst into tears like this,” he utters, handing me a piece of cheese. “'Tis a rather… rare occurrence. Cheddar?”

I gratefully accept the dairy from my childhood friend and bite into it, the saltiness stinging my tongue as I feel it crumble in my mouth. I look down in shame, remembering that time old man John, the village gambler, hit me for accidentally running into his wooden gambling table whilst making bets with the other villagers, causing all of the playing cards and betted coins to scatter at their feet. I was young back then, and I’d rarely experienced getting hit by my own uncle. I ran and ran until I got past the thicket— though I knew I would get lost— and discovered this once-beautiful place. Nicolaus was tailing me, and this became our sanctuary for when we were sad, or we simply wanted to be away from the bustling village we call our home.

I sigh.

“I am a dunderhead for believing that my father died by the hands of a bear. Gods, there are no bears in Augborough.”

“T’was likely the only thing that made sense to you, no?” Nicolaus replies.

Emotion wells up in my eyes and throat, and I end up crying once again. After a moment of peace and him rubbing circles on my back as a means of comfort, he speaks up.

“So, if your father is alive… Who is he?”

“…-vidson…” I mumble as I steady my breathing. “E-Eadmond Davidson…”

“Lord Edgar’s son?!” he yells into my ear accidentally, obviously taken aback. I frown at him for being so loud, but nod in response.

“Uncle says he is the reason Morris is dead.”

“You mean the Morris? The blacksmith he used to work with?”

“Yes. He said he was in love with a man, and was punished for it, thus being the reason why we never saw him again. Morris is… Eustace’s real father.”

Nicolaus dons a look of disbelief, before a contemplative expression replaces it.

“Wyatt is not related to Eustace by blood at all?”

I shake my head.

“It does makes sense now… But how is the lord’s son your father?”

I shrug.

“You tell me, for I am just as clueless as you, Nicolaus.”

He falls silent, staring at the creek. The dimming sky is reflected on the flowing water, indicating the sun had already set. I still feel numb from all the crying I’ve done today, so I lean on the blonde’s shoulder to keep myself from falling from the drowsiness. Oddly enough, I feel him tense up. I raise my head to see his face, only to find it flushed red.

“Oi. What is the matter? I’ve done this before,” I ask, a hint of teasing in my voice. “Is there something you would like to say?”

He vigorously shakes his head, shoving the last large piece of cheddar into his mouth, possibly to avoid the conversation, but ends up choking. I laugh at the sight of him as he is coughing out bits and pieces of the crumbly cheese, slapping his back in an attempt to help him recover faster. He pouts at me after his fit, which makes me laugh even harder, for he has no idea how he looks when he makes that face.

I almost fall off the log laughing when one of his strong arms hook around the trunk of my body to stop me from falling.

“Oh, Nicolaus, you should see your face when you do that!”

“You should see the way you smile when you laugh.”

My amusement is cut short when what he said sinks in. I stare up at the blonde, a bit confused. His arm is still around my torso.

I press my lips into a thin line, pinch his nose, and get off my derriere. This man just says anything he wants at the strangest of times.

“I am unready to go home,” I say, wiping my face on my chemise sleeve. I dust off the front and back of my kirtle, and face the sitting blonde behind me. “Unready to… face my uncle.”

“Surely, he will understand why you ran off,” he replies, getting off the log to stand in front of me. He tucks all the strands of my unruly brown hair behind my ears. “You are always welcome to stay in my house.”

I politely decline, for I know what it is like to be in that house with his father.

The man is a demanding sorner, and I feel sorry for Nicolaus to have to give most of his daily earnings to him only for ale. Suddenly, I hear a rumbling, and realize 'tis my stomach.

It begins churning, and I’m forced to bend over in pain.

It is as if a beast is rampaging in the bottom of my gut, and it wants to escape through my posterior.

“I've forgotten why I do not eat dairy much… Nicolaus, can we— urgh… Your… privy… ”

Unable to move or speak due to the pain, Nicolaus examines me from head to toe before positioning himself in front of me with his back facing me, offering to pickaback me.

“Come hither, I am carrying you whether you like it or not. I shall run, so pray thee, for both our sakes, do not leave a trail of shi—”

“Alright, alright,” I exclaim and shyly get on his back, clenching my buttocks to prevent impending fecal leaks.

How embarrassing…

By the time we arrive back home, I feel as if my rear end is about to blast, so I do not dawdle around and head to my childhood friend’s outhouse when he opens his front door. I find Nicolaus' father seated in their dining area, looking rather shocked to see me. Though I apologize for the intrusion, the man only smiles at me and waves his hand.

As I enter the outhouse and go to siege, I hear Nicolaus’s father reprimand him for being away for a long time without his permission. I hear the clanging of a metallic object, possibly a pot or pan, and am forced to cover my ears as I hear Nicolaus get beaten up by his own father.

When I exit the outhouse, finished with my business, Nicolaus is waiting a few paces from me, arms and face red and swollen.

My heart drops at the sight of this.

“Nicolaus…”

“I know you had heard what happened, but your uncle is waiting for you, Maia,” he whispers, tucking strands of my hair behind my ear for the last time, just for today, before smiling. “You needn't speak to your uncle, but you do need to be in the safety of your home. Go, Maia.”

I nod and hug my friend before exiting his home and making my way to my house. I find Uncle Wyatt struggling to cook supper. Though I am still angry at him for all his lies, I cannot simply not make supper. Silently, I take over the cooking, shoo my uncle out of the kitchen, and in no time, I am serving a delicious beef stew, supposedly to celebrate today’s successful delivery and extra pay.

Though I am still taking trips to the privy due to the cheddar I consumed earlier today, I take my time and utilize it to process what I had discovered today.

“…Hm. Mayhap I should pay my father a visit.”

dawdle – “waste time, linger”; welt – “bruise”; pernicious – “highly injurious or destructive”; copse – “group of small trees”; dunderhead – “stupid person”; sorner – “someone who unappreciatively lives off other people”; privy – “outhouse”; pickaback – “old-fashioned term for piggyback”; go to siege – “to go to the bathroom”